


The Impossible Boy

by starstruck1986



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-20
Updated: 2015-09-20
Packaged: 2018-04-22 14:20:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,297
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4838423
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starstruck1986/pseuds/starstruck1986
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>”And is that all I am to you? A play for his attention?”</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Impossible Boy

**Author's Note:**

  * For [my_thestral](https://archiveofourown.org/users/my_thestral/gifts).



> I asked for ideas for free commissions over on LJ and my_thestral asked for this pairing, some angst but an ultimately happy ending. So I wrote this.
> 
> Contents: Angst, age disparity (46/20), cross-gen, clandestine relationship, language.

“No, stop. Stop.” Ron hissed the words and planted his hands squarely on the shoulders of the twenty-year-old in front of him.  
“You don't want me to stop,” Scorpius challenged, his lips curling into that impossible grin that Ron had seen entirely too much of over the last three months.  
  
His life had been perfectly normal up until the point that Scorpius Malfoy had strolled into his life and firmly wedged himself into it.  
  
“I _do_ want you to stop, actually.”  
“This says otherwise.”  
  
Ron jerked as one large-yet-delicate, decorated hand palmed his crotch.  
  
“Scorpius Hyperion Malfoy, stop.”  
“Oh, Mr Weasley.” Scorpius actually tittered and bit his lower lip. “You say my name so prettily.”  
“Shut the fuck up, you little cunt,” Ron said bluntly, changing tact at the speed of light.  
  
He used the single second of shock in Scorpius' expression to tilt the balance of power in his own direction and ducked out of the boy's hold.  
  
“Mr Weasley, I do love it when you talk dirty to me.” Scorpius put his hands in his pockets and rolled his feet outwards. “You're so much sexier when you're swearing.”  
“And you're sexier when you shut your mouth.”  
“Around your cock, you mean?”  
  
Ron groaned and clenched his hands into fists.  
  
“This can't carry on. You know it can't.”  
“Actually I don't. Enlighten me?”  
“I'm twenty-six years older than you.”  
“So?”  
“You went to school with my _daughter._ ”  
“And she's my best friend, don't forget that.”  
“You work in my department. It's not just wrong because you're practically a child-”  
“I'm twenty! What had you done by the time you were twenty?”  
“You're also my professional junior and that makes this even wronger.”  
“Wronger? That's not a word.”  
“That's what you want to argue about? Language? Fucking hell, I might as well have stayed married to Hermione – all I seem to do is pick people who are cleverer than me! You're bloody impossible!”  
  
Ron aimed a moody kick at a nearby stack of toilet rolls and luckily missed. He didn't fancy picking them up again.  
  
They were secreted in a little store cupboard buried deep in the bowels of the Ministry. Their breath rose in the air before them, they were so far underground. With no offices located so far down, the Ministry didn't bother to heat beyond a certain point.  
  
The frigid temperature ensured privacy, at least.  
  
He had asked Scorpius to meet him there to give the boy a very clear and final message: whatever they'd been sharing, it was about to end. They couldn't keep on mauling each other in the cupboard, disappearing for increasingly long periods and shuffling back into their respective offices trying to surreptitiously flatten their hair and do their clothes back up. The Ministry was like one big gossip mill, with eyes and ears everywhere. And the fact that he had been boning the Malfoy heir was not something he wanted spread around the Ministry quicker than dragonpox.  
  
Scorpius wandered over to him and stood in his personal space. Ron allowed one hand to come up and touch a finger to his lips. The pale skin was adorned with the fading brown stains of an intricate henna pattern.  
  
“Did you enjoy India-paid-by-Daddy?” Ron asked quietly.  
  
Scorpius had been gone for two weeks, travelling a far off land using the money he had without having to work for it, even though he did work, and had come back only slightly tanned but covered in henna designs and random cords and jewellery.  
  
“I _loved_ it.” Scorpius grinned. “It was beautiful and I had an exquisite nineteen-year-old Muggle traveller from my group for breakfast and dinner nearly every day.”  
  
Ron couldn't help it; jealousy flared in his belly. He made no attempt to hide it. Scorpius laughed at him.  
  
“Does your father know you spent his money that way?”  
“My father can go and fuck himself, or my mother, or anyone he likes. He could fuck you. I think you'd like that.”  
“Shut up,” Ron warned him. “Shut. Up.”  
  
Scorpius was at least wise enough not to push it. There were things that Ron desperately wished he had been able to hide from his young lover, but that was impossible given his 'gift'.  
  
“You know I don't look on purpose.” The young blond's expression turned sad. “I stopped doing that years ago. Do you know what it's like, to be able to see what everyone is thinking? To never be left guessing? To know that... to know that your father is disappointed in you before he even opens his mouth?”  
  
Ron opened his own but Scorpius cut him off by continuing.  
  
“To know that you were a mistake? That your parents didn't mean to create you? Didn't want to bring a child into the world that they'd nearly changed for the worse? They didn't want me, Ron, and I'm not sure they ever changed their minds, even after I was born. And you wonder why I hang around you like a hopeful puppy? That I sleep around because it feels _good_ to be wanted, even on the most basic, carnal level?”  
“Your parents love you,” Ron heard himself blurt.  
  
He put his hands back on Scorpius' shoulders – but that time his fingers were grasping to provide comfort.  
  
“You see the world through your own eyes. You can see and feel what others are thinking but you put your own spin on it. You can't know this, because you've never created a life with your own... your own being, but believe me. I've seen you with your parents. I saw you on the station that day we sent Rose off to Hogwarts – the way your mum hugged you. And whatever your parents felt about making you, about the world they were bringing you into – they love you. And if your father were to get wind of the fact that you've been sleeping with me, I'd bet he'd have something to say about it.”  
“I bet he would.” A small smile tugged at the corners of Scorpius' mouth, which had settled into an emotionless line.  
  
Ron looked at him, right in the grey eyes which were so like his father's. He bit down the question on his tongue - _”And is that all I am to you? A play for his attention?”_  
  
“I know what you're thinking,” Scorpius said suddenly. “I don't even need to look inside your head. I might have been born with the talent of telepathy, but it's written all over your face anyway. I didn't expect to fall for you. I didn't even like you. Your daughter is hilarious, yet I thought she was nothing like you... but I was wrong. Everything I love in Rosie is from you. But she treats me like a brother and there was never going to be anything more than friendship between us.”  
“And that's just it. You're the best of friends. How would you ever explain... us... to her?”  
“If she loves me that much, she'll deal with it.”  
“That's one hell of a fucking ask, Scorpius.”  
“I know. But I'd do it.”  
“We've barely spent any time together outside this room. How do you know I'm worth it? I'm forty-six for Merlin's sake. Past my best. If I ever had a best.”  
“I don't care.”  
  
Scorpius shrugged. Ron hugged him close.  
  
“If you want proof, come away with me. Let's go somewhere exotic.”  
“I get sunburnt easily.”  
“I don't care, I'll buy you the best suncream there is.”  
“I don't really like the heat.”  
“Then we'll go somewhere cold. Iceland? We could see the Northern Lights? And nobody would need to know... you could take some leave, want to travel... and nobody would miss me. They never do.”  
“I missed you,” Ron whispered.  
  
 _-fin-_


End file.
